How to stop an eager beaver in his tracks

The story about a beaver who escaped from its Devon sanctuary into neighbouring Somerset (Mail) reminded me of the time I was a young zoo keeper. A beaver called Toby took a trial separation from his partner olive and went AwoL, setting up camp nearby in the grounds of a private estate. No one realised Toby had arrived in his new home until a group of weeping willows, previously vertical, were rendered horizontal. Beavers love willows. Young, succulent twigs are stored for winter food, the mature trees with their soft wood are easily felled and branches are used for dam building. Toby worked like a beaver, toppling trees and constructing a dam that blocked the outflow to the lake, raising the water level and flooding herbaceous borders and a tennis court. The owner of the estate was unappreciative of Toby’s landscaping skills and rang my boss, Reg, a slippery character who denied it was his beaver. ‘how do you know it’s ours? It’s probably a wild one.’ ‘Reg, according to my inquiries, beavers became extinct in this country in the 16th century.’ Reg played the wild card: ‘It could be they missed one; the one in your lake.’ ‘Listen carefully, Reg. The grounds of my house, once beautifully landscaped, now look like the everglades. If you don’t take steps to capture your furry chainsaw, I will commence legal action.’ The threat of being sued prompted Reg to use olive, the female beaver, as a honey trap. As soon as Toby saw olive’s brown, hairy face and prominent, orange-stained teeth, he couldn’t help himself. who could? he surrendered and returned home.

Bill Naylor, Wilsford, Lincs.